I do not own Star Wars etc. etc. You all know how it goes.

Welcome back to another chapter. Sorry for taking a while. Really struggled writing this chapter. Cause, uuughh, writing emotions is hard.

~o0o~

And if you could get me a bag of bolts that would be much appreciated, B3-S2 said lazily, casually waving its hand to shoo the human away.

Said human however hovered close by with a nervous frown. "A bag of bolts…sir?"

Sir? B3-S2 liked that. Yes. Mechanical bolts. Good for iron intake. Hop to it.

Still looking puzzled, the poor human had no choice but to turn around and find an answer to their problem elsewhere. No, no! the droid cried. I said 'hop' to it. Not lumber like a Hutt. Hop now, hop!

Anakin made his presence known as the low-ranking officer hopped out of sight. B3-S2 took notice of its new company but only got more comfortable in its pod. Wires were attached to every port on its body and pumping energy into it. Any dented and ruined parts had been replaced and now the droid looked better than it ever had been. Anakin drew closer to it. "Since when do droids eat bolts?"

Oh, never, B3-S2 admitted. I just like to watch humans follow my every command

Anakin gave a small smile but it did little to soften the tense atmosphere between Anakin and the droid. Neither of them needed to verbally express the lack of a certain baby to explain themselves. But the last few hours have invigorated Anakin enough for him to speak first. "Look –"

"–Hey! Who said you could be in here?"

The Mon Calamari Lieutenant, Mirn, marched into the room and puffed his chest out. "I don't recall the captain granting you permission."

Anakin paused. Behind him, B3-S2 cooed, Oooh? Is there a VIP list for me now?

"I-I-I just …" Anakin was having flashbacks to failing a speech assignment in front of classroom of judgemental students. "This droid is… uh…"

Lieutenant Mirn looked unimpressed before an idea popped in his head. "Oh? Is this your droid? The captain did mention it belonged to –"

"–No, it's…" Anakin sighed in defeat. He thought of R2-D2 and C3PO tottering along together like a married couple, mingling with humans as though they were ones themselves. "B3-S2 isn't really owned by anyone. Not really." Anakin couldn't bring himself to call B3-S2 his property.

Unfortunately, Lieutenant Mirn looked less then pleased with that answer. "If that's the case then –"

He is welcomed

"What?"

"What?"

Anakin and Mirn turned to B3-S2.

Leave him be. We're travelling together…and it's either him or the floor for company and he's only slightly better than the floor

"Thank you," Anakin scoffed.

"Do I not count as company?" Mirn questioned.

I'd rather the floor, the droid replied. Now leave us

Lieutenant Mirn squirmed uncomfortably for a bit before backing down. Instead of leaving right then and there, he checked on B3-S2's repair progress to which he found it would take another hour before its programming could be reinstated to its original form, allowing the droid to open up the gates to access the tracking device attached to the missing baby. Then, when the Lieutenant was finally gone, Anakin moved closer to the pod holding B3-S2.

I don't forgive you

"I'm not asking you to," Anakin acknowledged.

Oh, the gears in the droid's head whirled. Well good then

Anakin resisted rolling his eyes and told himself to keep this serious. "I just wanted to apologise anyway. You're allowed to still be angry with me though."

Don't downplay it, the droid snapped. You think I'm just angry? I'm confused, puzzled, bewildered, mystified, perplexed –

"Any other words you want to throw out there?" Anakin sighed.

I'm currently researching over fifty synonyms and believe me, I am more than prepared to use every single one of them

Anakin silently begged for mercy.

"Look, I'm not just here to apologise," he said tiredly, rubbing his eyelids. "I'm trying to explain myself. To tell you truth."

Oh good, there's more, B3-S2 would be pulling its hair out if it had hair.

Anakin groaned. "Yes," he stressed. "There is more. Lots more actually. So, please, just listen to me and when I'm done, you're no longer going to be, what was it? Confused, puzzled, bewildered –"

–Just get on with it, B3-S2 grumbled.

And so, Anakin did. Feeling as though he was about to jump into a faulty podracer and drive through the sport's most dangerous track, Anakin told B3-S2 as much as he could tell. Darth Vader and the dark future remained tightly sealed away but everything after falling back in time came to light. Unlike the Jedi, relaying this information for the droid was far more suspenseful. There were no eyebrows to rise in surprise or lips to sneer, all Anakin had was a blank robotic face as words kept emerging until he was finally done. Anakin felt like he had experienced the most difficult podrace of his short career.

I heard about those slavers

Anakin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Apparently chainsaw couldn't have done a better job than you

Anakin deflated when he realised what the droid was talking about. At the corners of his vision he could still see their looks of terror as he cut down them down. One by one, like the rebels trying to flee from Vader's rage. Although waking with only one mechanical limb in this time, it seemed as though Anakin had been truly more a machine than man as he ruthlessly slaughtered the slavers without even a second's thought, as though he was on autopilot programmed by Sidious. Glancing back at the droid, Anakin reconsidered his thoughts. Even B3-S2 was more human than what Anakin had become whilst destroying those slavers.

"See…" Anakin admitted, his voice croaky. "I was born a slave and I'm… I couldn't …" He couldn't find the words to finish.

B3-S2 shifted in its pod before answering with a solemn tone, My maker was a slave too. She spent five years building me from leftover scraps as she tried to fend for herself and her younger brother. I'll spare you the long story but we escaped eventually and, well...

Anakin drew closer, achingly cold on the inside. "She could never let it go, could she?"

B3-S2 nodded. I wasn't asking her to forgive them. I just wanted her to get better

A harsh bitter noise emitted from Anakin. "I was told the same but I don't think it's possible. We're too broken to get better."

Don't say that, B3-S2 answered, its volume down low. When droids are broken we are repaired. Surely it works the same way with humans

There was a count of five seconds before Anakin released a short, exhausted laugh. It shook and sounded wet. Clearing his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly he replied, "That's…easier said than done."

I know that. But after we escaped I watched my maker's life waste away as she focused on nothing but revenge and hatred. Everything else was lost. Every opportunity to start anew forgotten because she couldn't let them go. I'm not asking you to forgive them. I'm simply saying they're not worth ruining your whole life over

It's already ruined, almost leapt off Anakin's tongue but he paused as he remembered his wedding day and how the petals of native Naboo flowers showered around his beautiful wife. He remembered how her smile put the setting sun to shame and how the woman that held that smile could wear so many expressions and all were so passionate and human that of course he fell in love with her. The memory brought a smile to Anakin's face.

He focused on B3-S2, radiating fierce determination. "Look, I get what you're saying, and I do agree but that means I need your help now, to fix the damage I've done. I've got to rescue Obi-Wan and my mother, and those slavers can go launch themselves into the nearest sun for all I care. Saving my mother and Obi-Wan is all that matters now. Will you help me –?"

–Yes, your moron. 'Course I will. What do you take me for? B3-S2 ranted, low pitch beeps imitating a huff. Anakin didn't miss the way the droid bashfully cocked its head and looked at the floor. Clearly, it didn't take too kindly to deep conversation.

"In that case, you'll need some upgrades," Anakin suggested light-heartedly. Immediately, his brain began imagining all the numerous ways he could alter the droid. "You don't have any weapons, do you? We'll need to fix that. Or, hear me out, how does being a tank sound to you?"

…extravagant

Anakin beamed. "Okay, that's one of our options."

Back and forth the two went bouncing off ideas to each other. Both were aware that a plan was being developed by the Jedi and the Captain as this very moment, and knew that B3-S2's upgrades would need to work with it. Either that or they change their plans to suit us

Anakin nodded in amusement. Then he shot the droid a frown. "Got to admit, you took me being from the future really well."

B3-S2 produced a noise that was the closest a droid could to a snort. Well Skywalker, with you I've learnt anything's kriffing possible

Anakin laughed out loud.

~o0o~

Mace Windu closed his eyes and soaked in what he just heard.

Despite the low image quality of the commlink, Tahl could make out the hard lines on his forehead and a pulsing vein. If not for the Force singing its approval Tahl would have felt regretful for informing Mace of everything she had learnt.

"Time travel…" Mace repeated.

"Yes," answered Tahl and both of them sighed in unison. "I know it's a lot to take in. I'm still struggling to accept it but the Force…"

"I know, I feel it too," Mace replied. He straightened his robes and in an attempt to bring sense and logic back into the conversation, he continued with forced casualness, "I've received your coordinates. I should arrive in the Pilga System in a standard day."

Tahl nodded. Then she asked diplomatically, "I doubt you'll be on your own. You always enjoyed the extra company."

Mace graced her with an amused harrumph before answering. "Master Gallia will be joining me along with Knight Fisto. This will be his first major mission since his knighting."

The memory of Kit Fisto's infectious smile relaxed Tahl. Her body still ached from the previous battle and the upcoming one on the horizon strung her muscles up with tension. Tahl continued, "Mace, my apologies, but the captain will not wait for your arrival. I hope the Force will bring you here in time but slavers act fast and we can't afford to be so dependent on a tracking device that could be discovered any minute now."

Although displeased, Mace stiffly nodded. "Understood. I assume there is a plan of action?"

"Yes, but our goal is to rescue the children," Tahl replied. "We don't have the resources to subdue the slavers. We aim to sneak in, grab the children and escape."

Mace nodded again. "Master Yoda taught me the perfect diplomat ensures no one is forgotten at a party. It would be unfortunate to ignore his teachings."

"That it would be," Tahl agreed.

"May the Force be with you."

"And you."

~o0o~

Shmi barely had time to respond before a baby was shoved into her arms. She felt the baby's soft chubby skin tuck closer to her body for warmth as a rough grip on her shoulder shoved her towards the leading slaver. Narrin slouched in his chair, looking and acting like a bored king before his subjects. Below his throne was an arena dug into the ground. Cracked and muddy tiles lined the arena's walls and the dirt ground was uneven. On these walls, facing each other were two wide doors. Around the ditch were rows and rows of the Zygerrian slavers all keenly watching the doors. Shmi shifted the baby as she leaned over the iron fence, wondering what was going the happen.

The second-in-command approached his leader and informed him that something was ready. Shmi's heart suddenly felt heavy in her chest. "Hurry it up then Tai-Ro," Narrin ordered.

"Yes sir," Tai-Ro answered. He spotted Shmi and his piercing eyes narrowed further.

Narrin waved his hand dismissively. "I needed a babysitter. Don't think too hard about it. Now move along. We don't have all day. Send the first in."

Shmi wanted to look at the ground but she bravely held her gaze as Tai-Ro examined her, his hungry gaze continuously on the youngling in her arms. Finally, before the boss could explode, Tai-Ro nodded and whipped out a commlink. He sent through the orders and waited.

Iron creaked and chains rattled as the doors were pulled up. The crowd began to cheer and clap. Shmi couldn't see from her angle but she smelt a moist foul smell before whoever was inside one of the doors was revealed. Stepping into the arena was Xanatos. A sick feeling of worry overwhelmed the teenage girl as another young man met Xanatos at the centre of the arena. In her arms, the baby sniffled and batted at the locks of hair. Shmi was too focused on the arena to notice.

Narrin held up a palm, silencing the crowd. The teenage boys glanced up at the slaver. Xanatos and Shmi found each other immediately but neither were able to give the brief flash of relief acknowledgment before it was quenched with anxiety and a sense of foreboding. Shmi also made eye contact with the other boy, who she recognised as one of the older stolen children from before.

With the audience waiting for his words, Narrin delivered them loudly. "Boys, I'm sure you can guess the drill. Do as we say or we kill you. Good?"

Shmi stiffened as the boys glared at Narrin. Xanatos pleaded for the Force's aid to calm his nerves as he answered back, "Surely killing your supply isn't the smartest option for you."

Narrin snorted. "Don't act as though you know Hutt Space, Jedi. There's credits where there's organs. Especially if they're fresh and from healthy younglings. Money's a guarantee regardless. I just prefer appealing to my favourite buyers. So, what'll it be boys?"

Xanatos and the other boy deflated and then waited.

Pleased with the response, Narrin said, "Fight. Fight until one of you collapses. The loser doesn't get fed for a week. Or you can kill each other, I don't really care."

The crowd yelled and jeered. Xanatos and the boy looked at each other warily. In a flash of bravery, Shmi turned briskly to Narrin and was about to demand he let them go, but both he and Tai-Ro were staring at her expectantly, daring her to speak. Shmi's bravery dried up and she clutched the baby closer to her chest.

Below in the ditch Xanatos worried over his current predicament. While the leader was correct, the Padawan was naïve to the mechanisms of the slave industry, he was still more experienced in the darker sides of humanity. Whether he or the other boy killed each other or not, it still chipped away at their simple privileged selves, forced to commit actions they would never otherwise do. Xanatos surveyed the young man across from him and knew that despite the muscle build from work in agricultural fields, it could not compare to advanced Jedi training. As the crowd's yelling grew in intensity, weapons were hung suspended before the ditch by the guards. They were waiting on a Zygerrian who held a horn close to its mouth. Xanatos assessed each weapon as quickly as he could, determining which would be the most powerful and beneficial in his hands. There, that sword!

The horn blew and Xanatos bolted. He noticed his opponent dash to the opposite side and pick up an axe with ease. While the steel sword he chose was almost pitiful next to a lightsabre, Xanatos adapted to its shape and weight and held it in an opening stance. The boys caught each other's eyes and both sent the same message: that neither wanted to hurt the other but what choice did they have?

From atop her position, Shmi wallowed in her own uselessness. Forced to sit back and watch and only lend herself as a glorified babysitter for the slavers. She hated her lacking abilities and hated her non-existent bravery. The Jedi were everything she aspired to be yet there was not a shred of a mystical wise warrior within her. Shmi's self-hatred burned fiercely as she watched the boys take experimental swipes at each other as the crowd demanded more. After one particularly grumpy Zygerrian tossed a weapon and almost cut off Xanatos' head, the Padawan halted and glared up at Narrin.

"This is ridiculous, don't you want us in our best condition?!"

The slavers booed and Narrin sighed in amusement. "Don't tell me what my customers want. If they want a good looking thing to shag, I got ém." He gestured to Shmi who froze and Xanatos seethed. Narrin continued, "If they want a couple of dumb but strong boys to work in their mines, they'll get ém too."

Xanatos' grip on the sword loosened. The other boy was whispering harshly at him but Xanatos didn't catch a word he said. He concentrated only on Narrin. "Come on, your aim is to sell us, there's no reason to do this."

Narrin leaned forward. "Your reaction is all I need to know there's plenty of reason. Get on with it or…?"

Xanatos had prepared for a Zygerrian to aim a weapon his way. He had no expected Narrin's right hand man to press a dagger up against Shmi's back. Shmi gasped hysterically. Tai-Ro's tight hold on her arm and the slight but stinging jab from the dagger prevented her from moving. She almost dropped the unsuspecting baby in her fright. Xanatos stepped forward. "No, don't! Please! There's no reason to –"

"–as I said," Narrin spat out slowly. "There is plenty of reason. Get on with it."

Xanatos sagged in defeat and turned back to his opponent. The other boy shook his head in mutual understanding. Both boys raised their weapons again. They looked back to Shmi and saw that Tai-Ro still held the girl too closely to his dagger. The boys dived for each other. Although the crowd behaved as though they were watching a fantastic show, in reality there was little tension to be had once it became obvious who was the experienced fighter. The other boy struggled to keep up with Xanatos' speed and moves he and Qui-Gon had spent many hours practising. Xanatos had not topped his lightsabre classes for nothing. And in the heat of the moment, with the shouts and cheering of the Zygerrians dimming into the background, and the feel of sweat rolling down his forehead, Xanatos remembered just how much he enjoyed fighting. Instead of a captured civilian, Xanatos saw a fellow Jedi Padawan who had clearly not spent nearly enough time training as he should have. But that wasn't Xanatos' fault! It was either win through admittedly brutal means or be kept from food for a week. Between him and the other boy, Xanatos was obviously the most important person in the group of children when it came to figuring out a way to escape.

Gritting his teeth and with a flash of ferocious pride born from his hard-earned sabre skills, Xanatos saw an opportunity and seized it. The axe was knocked out of the opponent's hand, which began to bleed from a deep cut. A loud clatter sounded beside Xanatos as he huffed and built up the energy to slam into the other boy.

Above, Shmi was panicking. Her breaths came out quick and harsh, scratching at her dry throat. She eventually found it too difficult to watch, the illusions and fantasies of bedtime stories about the heroic Jedi shattering before her. Shmi brought the baby closer to her, pressing their foreheads together and squeezing her eyes shut. The youngling smelt like all babies do and reminded Shmi of her old school that took care of everyone under the age of 16 while their parents worked. She often used to stare out the windows and watch the wind rustle the natural landscape outside. The wind … Shmi paused as she felt wind caressing her face. Slowly peeling open her eyes, Shmi stared into the baby's eyes as a soft breeze gently swam between them.

Xanatos hissed when his ankle was whacked by his opponent's foot. He dodged another attempted attack and glared at his opponent, silently demanding that he just give up already. Xanatos was the skilled and talented Jedi Padawan no matter what his Master or any of the Order's Masters thought. He was going to be the hero in this situation and that wasn't going to happen until this fight was over with him finishing as the blatant winner –

– Xanatos relaxed when a breeze brushed up against him, soothing wounds and cooling his hot and sweaty body. He briefly resisted its reassuring touch but did not last long. He sank into its embrace. But then the wind built up and seemed to shove him back into wakefulness. And as Zygerrians' cheering roared ever louder in his eardrums, Xanatos finally soaked in the sight of his opponent. The boy was battered and bruised, blood seeping from numerous cuts across his body. Wide eyes stared up at him, waiting and pleading. Xanatos felt bile rise in his throat. That was an expression a Jedi was never supposed to instigate.

Noticing the Padawan's pause, the other boy scrambled to his feet and searched for a new weapon. Xanatos searched instead for Shmi again and felt the silent wind of the Force cacoon him. The sword's shape dug into his palm as Xanatos turned to Narrin who was gazing at his suspiciously. Then Xanatos felt a warning in the Force.

He knew it was coming.

Something hard and solid slammed into his head. It froze his senses momentarily before the rough landing on the ground brought them back. Xanatos' vision tripled and pain rippled through his skull in unrelenting waves. Through the Zygerrians' and the horrified apologies from the other boy, Xanatos heard Shmi calling out his name above it all before he was out cold.

~o0o~

"I really do fail to understand Master Jinn's reasons for keeping you," Bruck Chun proclaimed loudly.

Obi-Wan stiffened and refused to look at the other boy. Around them fellow Padawans and Initiates snorted in agreement. Swooping in to Obi-Wan's side was Garen who snapped back, "You don't understand a lot of things Bruck, so back off."

The bully rolled his eyes. "Come on, we're all thinking it. Why would Master Jinn risk training someone like Oafy-Wan after what happened with his previous Padawan?"

As the classmates shared whispers and frowns, Obi-Wan's heart skipped a beat. He realised with building horror that Bruck Chun knew about Xanatos and wasn't afraid to use it. He lifted his heavy head up and faced Bruck who looked way too pleased with himself. Obi-Wan thought of his Master who had so wonderfully taken someone like him in, and tried to sooth his emotions. Feeling the presence of Garen, Reeft and Bant only strengthened him further.

But like a foot stomping on a tiny but growing plant, Obi-Wan's confidence shrivelled up and died when Bruck went on. "You know what they used to say about Jinn's Padawan? They said he was full of anger and didn't have many friends. Sounding a little familiar Oafy-Wan? Guess the only difference is the guy actually had a brain as opposed to you. How badly did you fail that assignment again?"

The snorting and giggling grew louder and felt like it was creeping in on him. Obi-Wan screamed internally to keep those tears in and not give in to such petty emotions. He flinched when Bant rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't listen to him. We should go tell Master –?"

"–Like he's going to help," Reeft cut in solemnly. "None of them ever do." Garen nodded firmly and Obi-Wan felt ashamed when a part of him bitterly agreed too. Bant moaned miserably.

Bruck gestured to his group of friends and sneered. "We're all placing bets to see how long Master Jinn puts up with you. It'll only be a matter of time before you're shipped off back to the Agri-Corps."

Looking back on it, Obi-Wan knew Bruck had said worst thing but hearing the word 'Agri-Corps' brought back a series of negative emotions at unprecedented levels. The fear of being trapped in a mine about to sacrifice his life for a Master who had continuously rejected him, the anger at the Order and the world for abandoning him, and the complete and utter self-hatred for failing to live up to the Order's standards and proving himself worthwhile. Worthwhile …a word Obi-Wan wouldn't dare associate with himself ever again.

One moment Bruck was cackling with his friends. The next he was tackled to the ground, Obi-Wan shoving him down and landing a fist directly into his nose. Immediately, there was chaos as Bruck's friends crashed with Obi-Wan's, as the other classmates cried out for the Master, and as the two boys traded blows with a vigour and passion changed by recent events. But suddenly, they were pulled apart from one another by the Force.

Obi-Wan huffed and spat out blood. Bruck was practically growling like a dog.

"What is going on here!?" the Master barked.

Obi-Wan didn't bother trying to explain himself. The Master of this class had not taken long to distrust him and never believed a word he said. Garen, Reeft and Bant desperately yelled over Bruck's friends as they tried to defend him. Sighing loudly, the Master pulled out his commlink and said sharply. "Both of you will stay where you are while I contact your Masters."

"Creche Master," Bruck muttered bitterly, trembling.

"Ah yes," the Master corrected awkwardly.

Obi-Wan's heart thudded loudly in his ears. All he could think of was his Master's disappointed face and the tired shaking head of Grandmaster Yoda. With the Master's back turned, Obi-Wan slowly dragged himself up without notice since everyone was listening in on the commlink conversation. Bruck's Creche Master did sound happy. But Bruck was getting off lightly compared to what Obi-Wan feared on the horizon.

With any regard to its ramifications, Obi-Wan ran.

He ignored the cries of his friends, classmates and Master, and just kept running. He did not look back, only forward as he searched for a place to hide. Found it, he did. Obi-Wan squeezed himself in a tight space inside a dark closet, rolled up in to a ball and hid there. When his training bond was eventually tugged by his Master, Obi-Wan closed it off. Bruck had been right about Obi-Wan's issues with his classes but tightening his shields and hiding himself in the Force was not one of them. After all, he'd had a lot of independent training.

Obi-Wan stayed inside for a long while, not tempted in the slightest to remove himself, even as he heard his Master eventually dash outside the closet and around the hallway calling out for him.

"Obi-Wan? Padawan, where are you? Obi-Wan!"

Anakin rubbed his eyes and rolled over the workshop's floor, bumping into the tools laying beside him. As he stared at his robotic hand, the voice of Qui-Gon drifted away back into the realm of his dreams.

~o0o~

And thanks for reading. I don't know when the next chapter will be up so... sorry about that.